Just Another Girl On The IRT

Freestyle musings from a pseudo-intellectual hellcat in high heels with Huxtable aspirations in a ghetto fab world. Proudly sponsored by bouts of bitchy mood swings, one too many swigs of Turning Leaf, the letters F & U and the madness that is the Rotten Apple.

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Location: Brooklyn, New York, United States

Work in progress. Neurotic. Daydream believer. Bookworm. Addicted to the arts. Stubborn. Spoiled rotten. Lefty in more ways than one. Pop culture whore. Equal opportunity hater. Kid at heart.

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Sunday, August 07, 2005

Think I better let it go, looks like another style TKO

While I realize that looking for signs of fashion life in the music world can be as pointless as trying to find meaning in an Eddie Griffin movie, the following offenders leave me to wonder have stylists on both coasts conspired on a down-low strike that these lost souls didn't know about? I've seen my fair share of faux pas on the red carpet, but shit like this is just redamndiculous. A view at some of the offenders at the 2005 Billboard R&B/Hip-Hop Awards this past Friday in the ATL.


Chaka, Chaka, Chaka. Why? I mean, really... why?!?! I know you're every woman, but I don't know one on average that would be caught dead in that nightmare. It's time to back away from the sweet thangs because I feel for you, so I'm trying to tell you something...for your own good. You're no longer built like a brickhouse...but more like a damn quarry pit, so ditch the corsets and invest in a couple dozen muumuus until further notice.


I'm gonna need Keyshia Cole to solder her trap shut at ALL TIMES. Every time those piano key teeth see the light of day, I feel the sudden urge to scream at the top of my lungs, I just want it to be ov-ah!


Look ma, no sweat spots! You can always count on Lil' Mo to inject that shot of ghetto you've been waiting on. Ever since she got her marbles scrambled with a champagne bottle, the hoodrat quotient has skyrocketed tenfold. Just let us all bow our heads in silent thanks that she didn't crouch in the jail pose for the cameras.


To see my babies looking like residents of Covenant House truly pains me....somebody better tell me where A Tribe Called Quest are really hiding because judging by this resurgence...I've been hoodwinked. Bamboozled. Led astray.


What a clusterfuck of an eyesore this is. Hell, a picture is worth a thousand words but it's putting such a hurting on my vision, I can't comment further.


link | Shot from the lip by TriniPrincess at 12:43 AM |


6 Comments:
Blogger Butta commented at 8/08/2005 01:57:00 PM~  

I can't breathe I'm laughing so hard! Not a quarry...not piano keys...not Covenant House!!! On point style (or lack thereof)commentary.

Blogger Black Wombmyn Chat commented at 8/08/2005 04:14:00 PM~  

You think whassiname (funkster guy--parliament dude) is hurting your vision ? Can you imagine how he must have smelled when his funky ass got kicked off that plane a few months ago (Because he was too odiforous!)?

Blogger Michael commented at 8/08/2005 04:15:00 PM~  

It's time for you to make your way on over to E!

Blogger TriniPrincess commented at 8/08/2005 04:58:00 PM~  

ctfu, you serious, midlife? I wouldn't put it past him, though. George Clinton looks like he smells like ass 'n chitlins...which is pretty much one in the same. He didn't only want the funk, he kept it as a longtime guest. Musty ass bastard.
Mike, you gonna be my red carpet escort? ;o)

Blogger Rell commented at 8/08/2005 05:03:00 PM~  

man, i can't lie i normally don't "lol" when i say I "LOL."

But when i read your thing on Keyshia Cole, I was like "lol."

But sometimes, with the way she dresser, it's hard to focus on her teeth -- if you get my drift.

Blogger TriniPrincess commented at 8/08/2005 05:09:00 PM~  

Don't take much but a set of C-cup funbags to distract you from the dolphin grill, eh rell? LMAO.

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